Breakfast on board a superyacht is a big deal. It is the meal that sets the whole tone for the day, it’s our chance to gauge the mood of the guests and try to massage them back into high spirits if that is not the case.  Breakfast is an insanely busy time on board.  Let’s put it in perspective – on an 80 metre Superyacht, you usually have 7-8 interior crew members.  We had 7. Minus the night shift girl, 6. Minus a laundry crew member, 5. A Superyacht can sleep up to 12 guests before it is classified as a mini cruise ship. We had 12.  Some guests are as demanding as 3 guests.  We had 3 of those.  Breakfast was always eaten as a family.  Breakfast was always a massive spread. The table did not have space for an extra organic, locally sourced blueberry, it was full.

On my boat, we had an entire berry fridge.  This fridge was filled with trays, where berries were picked individually, after being washed very carefully, and placed individually in rows on paper towels in evenly spaced out lines.  And yes, The Boss did check up on these.  And I can attest to the fact that if this is not up to his standard, the consequences are grim.  So the berries remained in equally spaced rows to avoid any rage. I would personally go to the local fruit stand once or twice a week to pick out the fruit.  Fruit was a big deal on our boat.

Coming back to breakfast.  Preparation for this meal for 12 took around 1-1.5hrs.  Not a minute wasted, I had got the routine down to a tee.  And with my chief stew being away, I had stepped in as relief chief stew, the pressure was on.  There was talk of me taking over when my chief stew moved on, I needed to keep everything together.  And so the baby’s milk was warming in the boiled spring water, the chia seeds were placed next to madam, the three different types of pancakes were in the warmer drawer and I was just about to start prepping the son’s smoothie, when I heard a panicked voice come over the radio, “Tash, Tash, Jenny.” “Go ahead, Jenny.” “Hi Tash, We need you in the Master cabin.” 

Let me tell you now, there is very rarely a good reason, first thing, to be called into the Master Cabin.  I dropped what I was doing, peanut butter, still dripping off the spoon, frozen bananas left on the counter, and marched swiftly toward the master.  I took a deep breath at the threshold, straightened my skort, and assertively, but softly knocked on the door. As it swung open, Madam was frothing on the other side of it, arms flailing, hair buckwild, eyes darting through me.

“Good morn….” I get cut off sharply….”I need to leave, I’ve told these girls they need to pack, I have to leave here in 40 minutes”. I was listening to her as I watched the flurry of activity behind her.  I’ll take another moment to explain Superyacht luggage onboarding and off-boarding.  It is not simple.  On this particular boat, 1 week before the guests arrive for the season to begin, we get 12 Louis Vuitton suitcases that arrive on the boat via a private jet.  They arrive with a packing list, done by the villa in one of the villas they own.  We receive every single item, itemise it ourselves, record it on a Whatsapp chat, and then start to place it in the exact position that was defined the season before.  Every piece of clothing is organised according to type and colour, every piece has its place.  We have a stewardess who is nominated as wardrobe manager and this role on board is extremely important.  She is the only person allowed to deliver clothing back to the Master cabin and is the only person permitted to hang or place items back in the wardrobe.  The same applies with shoes and accessories.  This process takes us an entire week.  Each item is steamed and hung by the laundry steward and replaced in it’s correct place, overview pictures are then taken of the wardrobe, shared on the Whatsapp chat group, and studied.

As Madam is raging at me, I am counting the minutes, thinking I need to sort this out, I don’t have time for this outburst, but yet, I listen, gracefully nodding my head, while I calculate all the things that need to be done, the moment she had stopped yelling at me.   The captain needs to be notified, and drivers need to be arranged – a mini van for luggage, a minivan for guests, breakfast needs to be served, snack bags need to be put in the mini vans, a gift basket needs to be sent with the guests, all crew need to be in their epaulettes and a formal farewell on the aft deck has to be orchestrated.  I zone back in, she is still yelling.

The girls are running in the background, every single piece of clothing has to be individually wrapped in our boat paper, shoes need to be put in individual bags, toiletries need to be wiped and packed up, everything has to be documented, 33 minutes to go. And she still wants breakfast.

“No problem, Madam, I will arrange this for you, just to confirm you would like to leave in 35 minutes?  And will it just be you going?”

“Myself, my son and the bodyguards.”  Right, 3 more bags to be packed.  Why do we not have 8 stews on board again? I swiftly escape from the master, run up to the bridge and see the Captain and First Officer laughing over a coffee at something through the binoculars.  It takes a few moments before they notice I am there.

“Morning Captain.  So news just in – Madam, son and 2 bodyguards are departing in 30 minutes.”

“30 minutes?  Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Madam has only just told me, Captain.”

“Why did the night girl not pass this information on?”

“With all due respect I don’t think Madam told anyone.  I have quite a lot to organise, can I leave you to organise the 2 minivans?”

“2 minivans? It’s only 4 guests?”

“Madam is taking all of her luggage”

“Natasha, what does this mean, is she coming back, is season finished?  Why am I only hearing this now?”

I clenched my jaw, obviously, Madam did not kindly sit me down with a tea and divulge her entire calendar and life plan with me.  We all know the way she is.  But with hierarchy on the boats, I know the correct answer is:

“I must be honest, I am not sure, but I will try to find out more information from the bodyguards.”   I start to edge out the door and disappear as I hear him, now barking orders on the deck channel.

I now have to set up the bodyguards breakfast at the same time.  They are easier, I can just leave some food on the table on the deck below, but still, it’s the coffee orders and small talk that has to happen. I race to finish making the smoothie, wiping up the peanut butter on the counter, bananas back in the freezer.  I head to the galley to let Chef know that breakfast will need to be rushed, he starts to moan at me,

“Why am I always the last to know, I can only make the bread as fast as the oven bakes it….”  I slide myself out the galley, I am trying to organise all the small parts of the bigger whole.  I don’t have time to listen to everyone rant.

The buzzer from the dining room table goes, I take the 2 flights of stairs from the galley to the dining table 2 stairs at a time, Madam is standing in her robe at the dining table behind her usual chair.  She tells me, she wants 2 poached eggs, avocado and salmon and her tea. The tea, she says over her shoulder as she walks back down to the guest stairwell, will be in her room. I nod to no one, run to the pantry, write down her order, put the kettle on as I run her order down to the chef.  Let him know her order and ask how long it will take?  Only to have daggers thrown back at me.  I slowly back out the galley, back to the tea-making duty…

“Tash, Tash…please, quickly come to the Master.” Panic in her voice.

I leave the tea duty, run back down to the Master. Pause, take a breath at the threshold, only to see a wild madam throwing things out of the suitcase the girls have just packed, my two lovely stews staring wide-eyed back at her, I can see their tears welling.  Madam is in her robe, which is opening up as she chucks things out onto the floor.  I am trying to gauge what is happening.

“What is wrong with you?” She spits as she looks at me.  “Why would you ever teach these girls to pack shoes and underwear in the same place in a suitcase.” ahhhh, I look at what had happened.  Each individually wrapped shoe is in a shoe bag, and the underwear, wrapped in Ziploc packets, has been placed on top of these shoe bags.  In their defense, I would not have seen the issue either.  I try to explain to Madam that each item has been individually wrapped, this is a mistake.  She looks at me with venom as she leans closer towards me, “What kind of mother did you have? What kind of childhood did you have?  Did she not teach you simple hygiene.”

It is at this point that I wish to say, “Madam, I am going to go and pack my own bags, would you like to pack yours and I will race you to the dock?” Instead, I breathe in, I look her in the eye, “Madam there has been a mistake, the girls will fix it.  Would you like your tea in the bathroom, it is ready.”

She has already turned her back and closed herself in the shower room. I roll my eyes, look at my team and give them words of encouragement.  Who knew Tuesday morning before 8h30 could hold so much drama. I head back to my pantry, bring a tea tray down to the bathroom, prep a plate for Madam’s breakfast, WhatsApp the crew chat about the plans, call Chloe to ask her to go and wake the son and ask him to come up to breakfast, and then for her to quickly pack his one suitcase.  I hear the bodyguards at the table. As I get there, chef radios to say Madam’s breakfast is ready, the buzzer for the dining rooms goes.  My step count is already impressive for so early.  I pick up the eggs, race to the dining table and there Madam sits on her throne, with a smile plastered on her face.

“Good Morning, Natasha, how are you?” She says dripping in a sickly sweet voice, as if she has forgotten the last insult she had just delivered about my mother.

It’s wild out here.